Welcome to B-Unit
by jigokumamono
Summary: Cause we all know romance is harder than catching the bad guys... SnK AU police (somewhat) fic - read prologue for better summary. DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN, ONLY THE IDEA FOR THIS STORY AND MY OCs.
1. Chapter 1

**FINALLY BACK TO RE-WRITE THIS AND GO ON WITH THE STORY. AS ALWAYS, FAIR WARNING, THIS IS AN AU MULTI-OCxCANON FANFIC! THE WAY I ALWAYS WRITE THEM! SO IF IT'S NOT YOUR THING, TOUGH LUCK, GO READ SOMETHING ELSE! THE ONLY KIND OF CRITICISM I WILL TOLERATE IS THE CONSTRUCTIVE ONE! I'M DOING THIS TO GET THE STORY OUT OF MY MIND AND PRACTISE ON MY WRITING SKILLS.**

 **DISCLAIMER: NO, I DON'T OWN SnK OR ITS CHARACTERS! THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS!**

* * *

 ** _~15 years prior to the storyline~_**

In a world much like ours, where the only difference is a common government ruling all, there exists a police force stationed in the world capital. The force is rumored to be the strongest yet, the top of the elite. And hidden in its shadows, a team spends each day, fighting the hardest of them all.

The team's code name was _Losers_ \- and one of its strongest members was currently dragging his feet towards the force's HQ.

He was a somewhat short man, with his black hair in an undercut and his eyes almost always narrowed to slits. At that particular moment, his face was set in a scowl - not that such an expression was rare for him - and he was grumbling under his breath.

As he neared the entrance to the building, a lovely smell invaded his nostrils. His head snapped to the side, and he nearly wept at the fact that the _Old Delights_ seemed ready to open up.

Changing his course, he crossed the street, and entered the cute little coffee shop. _Old Delights_ was a small, stone building with a wooden roof and wooden frames at the door and windows. A quaint garden limited by a white picket fence surrounded it, full of buttercups, making it look out of place among all those tall structures and businesses around it. An old pear tree offered its shade to anyone who wished to enjoy a cup of coffee or a bite on the old bench under its branches.

He opened the door, and the chiming of the bell as he did so signaled the woman behind the countertop to raise her head from the dough she was rolling and flattening. She smiled at him, her electric blue eyes warming at the sight of his presence. The gesture made some of his irritation fade, though he suspected part of this calming effect was also because of the place. Inside and out, the shop was a homely "corner" in a city full of fast pace and anxiety, giving anyone who walked past its fence warm and fuzzy feelings. The interior of the ground floor - seeing as the upper level was a living space - was a lone room, that consisted of the kitchen and a door that led to the storeroom. The space was torn almost in half by a marble counter, where the owner and chef brewed coffee, prepared treats that were blessed from heaven itself, and serviced the customers.

 _Speaking of coffee..._

He marched up to the counter, grabbed a pot of the still hot, freshly-brewed liquid, and downed it in several gulps. The taste was strong, like a punch to the head, as it always was and should be. The woman knew her way around making a tired man's morning, no doubt about it.

She chuckled, and finally spoke "Good morning, Detective Ackerman.". She then grimaced, bringing her hand to her nose and effectively getting flour all over her face "Oh, dear... This is a powerful smell."

He grimaced, too, disgusted with himself, since this was going against his very being and personal hygiene. She was right, his barman outfit - the one that shitty-glasses had forced him to wear for the mission - reeked of booze, cigarettes, sweat and... other stuff she didn't have to know about.

"Shitty night, don't ask about it. But your coffee really gave a few more hours of life to shitty-glasses to live, so I'll tell her to tip you nicely as thanks for that, Sharon."

"I'll send you some more in an hour - maybe add in the mix some breakfast crostatas if they're ready by then", she grinned, and reached for the shredded cheese by her side. Bless that woman, she always knew what to say.

A couple of energetic feet pounded on the wooden staircase behind her, and they both turned to look at the blonde angel making her way down. She was a cute thing, even as a teenager, with hair that looked like gold whenever they caught the sunrays, and her mother's eyes. Her innocent smile was wide as she greeted him "Hi, Levi!"

"Colleen, darling, it's **Mister Ackerman** ", her mother gently reprimanded her.

The brat ignored her, dashed under the only opening of the counter top, hugged him tight despite his repulsing odor, and rushed giggling through the door. Seconds later, a girlish squeal that sounded suspiciously like _"Jean, Marco, you're late!"_ made both adults shake their heads.

"She's gonna marry one of those boys one day, I swear", her mother smiled, already getting another pot of coffee ready. "Go on with you, Detective, I'll send you your breakfast soon enough."

"Appreciate it", he groaned, turning to leave so that he could finally enter the intimidating building across the street. Fuck, his whole body was sore - and he could already hear shitty-glasses and that fucker, Erwin, bitching about him poisoning half of that bar's low-life scum crowd, though, to his defense, it was their fault he had to endure dirty old fags trying to feel him up all night long.

Good news was, he was scheduled to retire in a couple of months - though, why his superiors did him that favor so early in his career, he didn't know and didn't care. Bad news was, he was really gonna miss Sharon's homemade cooking...

 _ **PREVIEW:**_

 __"Sir, Armin has started hacking on government confidential networks again!"

"Tell his blonde gay ass to calm the fuck down, coffee is on its way."


	2. Chapter 2

**AND I'M BACK! AFTER SO LONG, I FINALLY DECIDED TO MOVE ON WITH THIS STORY!**

 **AS ALWAYS, NONE OF THE CANON CHARACTERS BELONGS TO ME!**

* * *

 ** _May 24th_**

 ** _15 years later_**

 ** _Present Time_**

Fifteen years. Fifteen **fucking** years. He was supposed to be a retired man, sipping tea and cleaning his guns, for fuck's sake! But noooo, leave it to shitty Erwin to make him babysit a bunch of brats... The fucker was enjoying his new position as Chief way too much!

He neared the same HQ he had been entering as a detective once upon a time. For the past ten years, he had been entering it as a Captain, since the bastard he called one of his best friends had dragged him back in action after only five years of personal peace.

At the last minute, he changed his route and crossed the street. Opening the white picket fence door, he proceeded to enter the little cute garden full of blooming buttercups, passed under the pear tree's shade, and let himself in the adorable small building.

As the chime of the bell above the wooden door echoed in the wonderfully-scented room, the young female behind the counter raised her warm, electric blue eyes, smiled at him, and, without stopping sprinkling brown sugar on top of a pastry covered with what smelled like maple syrup, reached under the counter and produced a pot of coffee - labeled "Badass Wake Up Call". She pushed it towards him and he downed it in two long gulps. She giggled "Rough morning, Captain Levi?"

He tsked "I have to go babysit a bunch of geniuses - _don't tell them I said that!_ \- before they start doing something that might get them in jail - or worse. **Every** morning is a rough morning in my book..."

His phone chose that exact moment to ring, and he put it on speaker, murmuring "Case in point...". A voice, that of a young male's, filled the room with its anxious tone:

"Sir, Armin has started hacking on government confidential networks again!"

The Captain growled, giving the giggling young woman a "see?" look, and replied "Tell his blonde gay ass to calm the fuck down, coffee is on its way."

"I heard that, you freaking excuse of a midget!", another male shouted from the phone, before Levi ended the call.

"He's lucky there's no other tech geek like him, or I would have torn him a new one for that attitude long ago", he growled, his eyebrow twitching.

The woman passed him a warm styrofoam cup. "Well, you know how Armin is when he's out of caffeine, Captain. Here, take this to him, and send someone at nine o'clock to pick up the rest for the team. Oh, and this is some baked brie for Jean. If any of you wants some, too, there's a bunch of these babies coming out of the oven in five minutes", she winked, as she gave him a hand-sized, heavenly-smelling, warm packet.

The black-haired man blinked, staring at the golden halo that the sun created as its rays fell on her hair from the nearest window. He sighed as he turned to leave "Colleen, seriously, one of these days I'm going to hog-tie that horseface and force him to put a ring on that finger of yours. Though I might regret it, because you **really** deserve better..."

* * *

 _ **PREVIEW:**_

"Nice ass, Chief."  
"REINER!"  
"Thank you, Detective Braun, but you're not really my type."


	3. Chapter 3

**BACK SO SOON? WHY, YES! I'VE BEEN AWAY FOR SO LONG, I FEEL LIKE I OWE IT TO YOU GUYS TO UPDATE A BIT MORE OFTEN NOW.**

 **WARNING! THERE ARE SOME DISTURBING THINGS IN THIS CHAPTER, OF THE CRIMINAL KIND. SO THOSE WITH SENSITIVE STOMACHS MIGHT WANT TO AVOID IT OR SKIP THEM IF POSSIBLE.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN OR ITS CHARACTERS! IF I DID, MANY PEOPLE WHO ARE NOW DEAD WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!**

* * *

"Kirstein, incoming", he heard the low growl that he had come to identify as his Team Captain ever since the Force dumped him in what was perceived to be 'the unit for the children no one wanted to play with'.

Jean Kirstein used to look up to people in uniform - or, well, anyone carrying a badge. Back when he was 16, his brown eyes would light up at the mere sight of officers exiting this very building he was currently in. Being childhood friends with Colleen, whose residence was right across the street, helped him a great deal with catching a glimpse when visiting.

But now, fifteen years later, and at his early 30s, **Detective** Jean Kirstein wanted a break from all that he used to admire. Or at least some days off, because, really, some of the shit he had to deal with was too much, more often than not. Most of said shit was also caused by this menacing short stuff of a Captain, who was now holding a steaming food package.

"Uh... thanks, Captain", he hurriedly accepted the gift, not daring to stand up to show any kind of respect. For one, Levi Ackerman hated such stuck-up gestures. Not to mention, they reminded him that almost all the male team members were taller than him, and boy, was that enough to send him in a rampage or what?

Dull blue eyes gave him the famous _Ackerman Morning Glare_. The 5-foot-something male clicked his tongue "Still have no idea what that poor girl sees in you, Kirstein. Must be because she's blonde and that insinuates some innate stupidity or something..."

"I heard that", a quiet murmur made them turn towards the desk of one of the two blondettes of the team, Annie Leonhart. Her blue eyes showed irritation at the insult. Not that it ever bothered Captain Ackerman if someone in the whole building was offended. What the man lacked in height, he made up for in attitude.

The superior officer opened his mouth to reply, when another blonde head made an appearance in the room - or, rather, a blonde _blur_.

"OK, where the fuck is my coffee?", the hacker of the team snarled, nearly tackling the Captain when he dangled the styrofoam cup away from his own body. He snatched the thing and took a generous gulp, sighing in appreciation before his tense shoulders slumped. His large, expressive blue eyes blinked, and he gave them all a sunny smile, as bright as his short golden hair. "Good morning, everyone", a sweet, boyish tone now replaced the previous murderous one. The voice was gentle and shy, totally in tune with the delicate man it came from "I really needed that. Thank you so much, Captain. I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you or Colleen."

"No trouble at all", the gruff male replied, before his fist planted in the slightly taller one's gut. The hacker coughed and doubled over, as the Captain turned on his heel to enter his private office "That was for mouthing off to me earlier."

"Ah, so lively in the morning, as always", a cheerful, deep tone turned everyone's heads to the door. A tall, blonde man, with a neat haircut and icy blue eyes that never seemed to leave their calm state stood casually there. Even with his stance, his presence was quite commanding. Well, as expected from the Big Boss, Chief Smith.

Blushing, all the present people - minus Levi - stood up to attention. Jean ruffled his short, ash-brown hair to look a bit more presentable, hoping to all hell that his gift from Colleen wouldn't offend the Chief. He never showed any indication that the rules were to be followed to the letter, but with a man like Erwin Smith, you never knew.

"At ease, Detectives", he gave them his usual fatherly smile. His bushy blond eyebrows wiggled with amusement. His expression soon turned to shock, as someone tackled him to the floor from behind in the very next second.

"GUYS, THERE'S WORD OF SOME NEW MISSION AND - FUCK!", a panicking rant got cut short, as the person stopped at the entrance, looking down on the heap at his feet with terrified, teal-green eyes. "C-Chief! Fuck - I mean, er, shit, no, shoot! C-Connie, get off of him!"

The shaved head of the Chief's assaultant rised up, hazel eyes rounding in fear as he scrambled to get away. He was the only male in the group shorter than the Captain, but that didn't mean he was favored. His usual goofiness, stupid jokes, and clumsiness were often the reason why he was hit or kicked. Case in point, he was currently trying to help the Chief up, but couldn't resist adding cheekily "Yo, Chief, morning! Damn, is your back always that hard or were you just happy to see me?"

A chuckle escaped the superior's lips even as a book was sent flying on Connie Springer's head - the lack of hair not helping with cushioning the impact. He gave the young man a sympathetic smile, before addressing the rest of the people standing at the door behind the guy who had been yelling at the top of his lungs earlier. "Come in, everyone. And close the door. There is indeed a new mission for you, and I fear you may want to be seated for this one."

"Aw, man, so early in the morning? I haven't even had breakfast yet", the country-girl drawl of Sasha Blouse, the team's sniper, sounded like a whine. She was a woman of average height and build, with reddish brown hair and light brown eyes, but her main charm was in her humor. Too bad that one was out of the market; Connie, her spotter, hadn't left much of a time for anyone to swoop her off her feet after he set his eyes on her.

Some coughs and chuckles indicated the team's amusement at her bottomless stomach and endless appetite. How she managed to look so fit, he would never know - nor did he want to, since the response would be something crude, he was sure of it. Several chairs got dragged back and forth as people sat in their respective desks, laptops and computers started humming as they slowly came to life with button clicks.

He sat down, too, watching as the Captain followed the hacker he had previously punched to the latter's desk, leaning over the screen lazily. The chair next to him was dragged into place, making him look at his partner, Marco Bott. His black hair was combed weirdly today - probably because his son, Santo, had tried to style it again - , and his freckled smile reached his warm, brown eyes. On his desk, there was another package that seemed suspiciously similar to his.

His heart warmed. Ah, where would they both be without their dear friend, Colleen? The woman managed to maintain the bakery she had inherited from her mother - God rest her brilliant soul - , had helped Marco throughout the most difficult years of Santo growing up, teaching him everything from cooking to laundry and sewing, and, even now, still worried enough about the both of them to feed them at work. If he was another man, he would have married the girl in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately for all involved, he wanted only one woman to settle down with. He held back a sigh as he stole a glance at Mikasa Ackerman, the asian prodigy of the group and a distant relative of the Captain's. A Japanese-American, the woman was rather tall and built, with legs that could go on for days and matching black hair and eyes. Her cold persona always made him shiver and long for something between them much more than a simple companionship. But she had made it clear she wasn't interested - and thus, Jean had decided that if he couldn't have a chance with her, he didn't want a chance with anyone else at all.

Files popping up on his screen brought him back to Earth. Erasing all personal thoughts from his mind, he focused on the data and the numbers... And then all the blood left his face and his gut churned. His eyes widened. God, what a sadistic bastard were they supposed to deal with? These weren't incidents of some puny criminal, these... these were bad!

"Child and woman trafficking, gun smuggling, drugs and mur... - Oh, Lord!", Krista Lenz's cry reached his ears, but it sounded like so far away. He was breathing heavily, felt light-headed. He was glad he hadn't eaten anything yet, cause he'd be sure puking his guts out right about now if he had. The pictures... Jesus, they were haunting! They made everything the reports said even more disturbing!

"I don't think I'm hungry anymore...", Sasha mumbled, her laughing eyes serious as they glared at the screen and her hands reaching unconsciously for one of her drawers that were stuffed with guns.

Jean had to agree. Among many other horrid things, were children cut to pieces, their small bodies covered with bruises that were not related just to beating. The word "rape" escaped Krista's lips, as she was the one usually dealing with such cases and able to recognise the signs.

A grunt from the Chief was her answer "Not just that. Hanji and her team worked on the bodies we managed to retrieve - after they spent some time piecing them back together. We found them floating in a lake near a child camp. The lake was frozen from the winter and the ice melted after that, allowing what was left to float up. The rapes... they weren't done only before the deaths. They..."

Marco inhaled sharply at the sight of the Chief hesitating with the details. "You're saying... They were raped AFTER they were killed?"

His partner's voice was trembling. Understandable. Some of those kids were boys. Could have been happy campers or innocent ones playing in amusement parks like his own son, Santo. This case hit very close to home with him.

"Some of them, yes", the Chief nodded, running his hand through his hair helplessly.

"Necrophilia on top of murder and rape", Bertolt Hoover murmured quietly. His green eyes stared thoughtfully at his screen. He was contemplating something. Usually, Bertl kept to himself - he let one of his partners, Reiner Braun, do the talking and such and just towered in the background with his impressive yet awkward height. But when it came to creepy theories, he was the go-to man. One of the reasons why nobody ever messed with the gentle giant - who knew what was going on in that silent brunet's mind? He crossed his long arms and brought a hand to his chin, seemingly the only one not disturbed by the reports and the images in front of him. "In that case, it would be safe to assume they might have chopped up the victims and did... all that, to the sole necessary parts of their anatomy. Correct?"

A retching sound informed them of Sasha releasing her last dinner in the bin under her desk. The acid smell invaded his nostrils in the closed up office, and he felt his own nausea inching its ugly head near the surface. He couldn't blame her. The thought was indeed enough to send anyone vomiting. If he wasn't trembling with anger, his disgust would sure have done him in.

Delgado, the man responsible for all this, as the file said, was a mafia boss that no one could get their hands on. Always invisible, always in the shadows, never once detected or caught red-handed for his many crimes. Just this once, though, he had been careless. The report stated that the K9 unit had managed to find a lead in the traces maintained thanks to the ice on the bodies. God, would it be enough?

A mug was sent flying to a wall and crushed to pieces - the guy who had thrown it, Eren Jaeger, was fuming and ready to kill someone, not at all the same man who had panicked some moments ago for cussing in front of his superior.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go find this guy and kick his ass!", the furious brunet stood up, his chair falling back with a bang in the process. As always, the hot-headed idiot was rearing to go without any plan whatsoever. Mikasa silently followed her partner's lead, making Jean grit his teeth at the woman's devotion to the fool.

"Jaeger, sit the fuck down before I stab you with Armin's screwdriver, bury you, dig you back up and stab you again for good measure", the Captain's voice was not loud like Eren's, but it always did the job of calming the irritable idiot down and fast. Maybe because he wasn't above acting on his threats... As expected, Eren sat down, and the short man turned to the hacker again "Arlert, connect to the team's network and make it so all the evidence and the other crap are filed and away from the screens. You can all browse through that shit later in your free time, I find the accomplishes and possible lairs much more important - otherwise, SOME hare-brained motherfucker, namely Jaeger or Springer, will try to look on their own. And then I'll have to deal with lawyers and lame-ass bureaucrats - and you all know how I hate to deal with such people, don't you?"

Everyone shook in fear at the menacing aura that surrounded their leader. Armin shakily nodded and his fingers sped across his keyboard. A few seconds later, faces, profiles, maps and building designs replaced the gore and corpses they had to endure. Jean examined them, his head still dizzy from the previous pictures. The rest of the team seemed as engrossed as he was, until...

"Nice ass, Chief!", a deep baritone boomed in the silent room, startling them all and making them glare simultaneously at the source.

"REINER!", they yelled as one, half of the team blushing, the other half furious or pale. The Captain himself looked like someone's dog had peed on his favorite shoes and he wanted the mutt responsible dead. The only ones giggling behind their hands like school brats were the comic duo, Connie and Sasha.

"Thank you, Detective Braun, but you are not really my type", the Chief laughed heartily. His stance relaxed a bit, as if Reiner's comment had helped with the tension in the air.

Wait. He blinked. Damn, the Chief was right. Reiner really HAD helped them calm down. As unorthodox as his method was... He breathed easier now, his mind was clear, and his heartbeat was faster because of the adrenaline of the mission, not dreading anything other than the ordinary dangers that came with the job.

 _Good job, doofus_ , he mentally sent him his gratitude and praise.

The blonde bear of a man grinned, his golden eyes twinkling in mischief "Was talking about the hot mama in the picture, but yours isn't half bad, sir."

Jean looked at the screen in confusion, which soon cleared up. There, on the bottom right corner, was the picture of a woman's back. Her face was visible so they would easily find her, but the camera seemed to have caught a rather... interesting part of her anatomy, as well. And Reiner, being a proclaimed 'butt man', never missed a chance like this.

"OK, this one's mine", said 'butt man' proudly declared, puffing his impressive chest out. "I call dibs on that chick."

"We're supposed to capture and interrogate her, you drooling excuse of the male specimen", Ymir Cooper rolled her amber eyes and scrunched her tanned, freckled nose at him. "Just because you can't get laid doesn't mean you get to hit on the suspects. If you're about to let your dick do your job for you, then we're better off sending Armin after her."

"Hey! Leave me out of your rival banter!", the hacker freaked out at the possibility of being sent out on the field.

"As I was saying", Chief Smith's voice ceased all activities, "one team will be needed to search for the accomplices. The rest can focus on sniffing out the man himself. There are three places that have picked our interest as possible hideouts. I expect results as soon as possible, of course. Levi, I leave the rest to you. Have a nice day, Detectives."

The tall blonde exited the office at once, not even bothering with anything more than that farewell. They were used to it by now. If there was a mission on the way, their Captain wanted the preparations started pronto - any time extra taken from the schedule pissed him off. The Chief was once in the same team as him, so of course he knew what made him click and buzz.

Right on cue, the moment the blonde's second shoe touched the floor outside the door, the black haired ex-veteran jumped straight to orders.

"Alright, brats, listen up. Delgado is rumored to be one sick bastard. We all saw the images, we all read the numbers - so help me, God, Blouse, if you puke again I'll make you eat that stuff right out of your bin. Where was I? Right. The higher ups expect us to fail or get killed - well, we can count Shitty Glasses, Erwin, and Mike out of that crowd, but it still doesn't help. Which is why we were given this mission to retrieve him dead or alive. So, since I hate giving them what they want, none of you are allowed to die - or I will personally hire a psychic or exorcist or whatever to make your after life hell, and go take a shit on each of your graves. Though I'm sure Braun here will be delighted to have my ass facing his tombstone, perverted fucker that he is. Ackerman and Jaeger, you'll take the suites at his casino's top floor in Vegas. Springer and Blouse, the luxury yacht docked in Florida's main port. Leonhart, Hoover, and Braun, you - ", he stopped, visibly cringing at Reiner's attempt of a puppy-eyed look, "OK, fine, Leonhart, Hoover, and Braun, go after the hitman the drooling brute is so enamored with. Leonhart, I expect you to shoot him in the balls if he gets distracted - Hoover is too much of a softie with him to do it. And that leaves the estate at East Humpton. Kirstein, Bott, you two will take care of it. Any further questions, call Arlert. Get them debriefed as soon as you're done with the files, blondie. And now, get to work. I want the stuck up higher ups fuming with our success!"

* * *

 _ **PREVIEW:**_

"Well... That did not go as I expected, or according to the plan, but at least nobody important died."

"Uh... Jean?"

" ** _That_** doesn't count!"


	4. Chapter 4

**SO HAPPY TO BE BACK WITH YOU WITH A NEW CHAPTER! ENJOY! AND AS ALWAYS, I ONLY OWN THE STORY IDEA AND THE OCS!**

* * *

"Crawling through the sewers…", Jean grumbled, his face twisted with disgust at the knowledge that part of what he was crawling through had surely slipped beneath his clothes. "Of all the craziest, stupidest ideas to get past the entrance guards - "

"You said 'let's do it!', so shut up", Marco huffed in irritation. "You agreed to it - "

"I agree with everything remotely dumb or dangerous", Jean cut his tirade short. "Doesn't mean you should let me do it."

"I'm your partner, not your mother!", the freckled man snapped, effectively shutting the other cop up.

His plan had been the only one they had agreed on – at the moment – to get them behind the guard posts, inside the property, mostly undetected. Jean's suggestions were too risky, while Marco often approached matters from a safer perspective, but with great chances of failure. Thus, they had opted for door number three, so to speak.

Still, that didn't make things any better. Jean suspected the stench would forever be imprinted on him – shit, Colleen would have an aneurysm should she smell them both.

A tap on his foot alerted him to a small opening above their crawling place. He glanced up, and motioned for Marco to crawl backwards, so that he could have some space to maneuver and climb up out of this cramped, stinky place. Hopefully somewhere hidden, and with no guns pointing at him, ready to blow his brains out.

Grunting, he squeezed through the hole that presented him with an exit, grateful that he didn't have to push away any metal door – which would have resulted in potential noise. Once out, he squatted down to help his partner, and together they took a quick look around.

It was a room that was filled with cleaning supplies and tools. No wonder there was no door or lid to cover the hole on the floor – it must have been used to throw out trash, so why bother covering it in the first place?

"We're in", Marco let out a sigh of relief. He checked his Kevlar and then proceeded to take his gun out. Clicking the safety off, he noticed that Jean was already in position, armed and ready to go. They exchanged smirks and, with a nod to each other, exited the room.

The hallways were eerily silent. For a moment they both thought it was a trap, but footsteps in the distance made them change their mind. It seemed Delgado wasn't taking any risks with his private lodgings. The guards were even instructed to keep quiet so as to detect any foreign sounds.

Feeling exposed despite their presence still unknown to the estate's occupants, they crept further into the building, their progress slow and steady because of their current predicament. Checking each room was also a task on its own, since they didn't know what would await them behind every door – or if said door would creak and give them away.

After what they felt was hours in moving and breathing slow, they both came to a halt. The hallway was divided, and they would have trouble choosing which way to go if a slap hadn't echoed from the path on their right.

"Ungrateful, useless bitch", a male voice snarled from the same direction, followed by a female whimper.

They both stiffened at the heart-wrenching sound. Marco, because it brought back painful memories – ones of cinnamon curls and green eyes. And Jean, because he remembered – Delgado had a wife. If the report was true, she was an accomplice. But then why was his gut telling him she might be a victim, too?

 _It's your damn absence from sex_ , he mentally scolded himself. _It's clouding your judgment and making you see damsels in distress everywhere!_

He exchanged a stern nod with his partner and they both turned right. At the end of the hallway was a door, not completely closed, and the sound of people talking and shuffling spilled from its opening.

Jean kept moving, while Marco stopped halfway there, turning his back on his partner, and raised his gun, aiming in front of him, ready to take out anyone who might come. He suspected it would be soon, since Jean would surely have to shoot any bodyguard in the room.

Just as he expected, a couple of minutes later, gunshots were rousing the place from its eerie silence, followed by a female scream. He didn't pay much attention to any of it, though, as he focused on the narrow one-person hallway and started shooting down the guards, one by one. He emptied his magazine and instantly reached towards another, knowing he had less than a minute before the rest of the men got a good look at him over the small pile of dead bodies. That soon proved to be unnecessary, though, as the hallway remained strangely empty from reinforcements.

He blinked, not letting his guard down, but seriously confused. Sure they had seemed unprepared and panicked, as they had thought no one would break in thanks to being so thoroughly organized, but even so… _That ended way too quickly_ , he thought _. What the hell? Isn't Delgado worried about his safety – or that of his wife's? This kind of security system is lousy at best!_

Frowning, he turned his earpiece on . He knew it was stupid and against the basic rules of survival and mission success to keep it turned off, but he always had trouble concentrating if he had someone constantly talking in his ear – he left Jean to deal with that crap, and took on Captain Ackerman's shit like a pro for continuously doing so.

Speaking of Jean and Ackerman, his ear picked up the convo they were having – and something seemed completely off.

" _ **Uh… sir? Can I ask a stupid question?"**_

" _ **Better than anyone I know, Kirstein"**_ , came the caustic reply, which was as usual ignored by the detective.

" _ **Suppose we… I don't know… kill the wrong bastard and promise the wife protection… what would you say is the expected…um… repercussions?"**_

Ackerman didn't answer for a while, and both partners held their breath, with Marco choking on his own spit. What the hell did Jean mean by _'wrong bastard'_?!

" _ **Let me get this straight, Kirstein"**_ , the Captain's voice finally growled menacingly. _**"Are you saying that the fucker we're after has a double, one that could potentially know where the real Delgado is, and you… killed him?"**_

" _ **Technically, it's**_ _ **had**_ _ **, sir, and… it was an accident!"**_

"…"

"…"

" _ **YOU MOTHERFUCKING MORON!"**_

* * *

Jean always prided himself on making the right choices in critical situations. Well, most of the times… OK, fine, at least more often than Jagger!

Still, this particular mission had been screwing with them from the get-go, so he shouldn't have been surprised when he kicked the door open, raising his gun and _shouting "Police! Get your hands in the air, where I can see them!"_ to witness the scene he did. A muscular yet somewhat bulky man, with a bald head and beady eyes, was facing a mahogany desk, speaking to a phone device. The minute Jean entered, he gave a startled grunt, and dove for the desk's surface, grabbing the gun resting there and pointing it at the detective.

Jean snorted "Seriously? What about the safety, smartass?"

Delgado smirked "Who said I need to click it off?"

The detective raised an eyebrow "No safety on? Color me impressed, baldy, you seem very confident for someone wanted on every State and half of Europe, leaving your gun free for anyone to shoot you and all that. Well, it's your funeral anyway, so let's cut to the chase, shall we? Don Delgado, you're under arrest for multiple reasons that I'm too pissed off and disgusted to list right now. You have the right to remain silent – though do go ahead and run that ugly pie hole of yours, I dare you. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the - "

" _ **You have a loaded gun, you fool"**_ , a voice from the phone growled, cutting him mid-sentence. He frowned. He really enjoyed giving criminals his own version of the Miranda warning, and whoever was on speaker had just interrupted his fun. _**"Act like it!"**_

Acting on instinct, Jean grabbed the nearest person and held it in front of him as a shield, just as the baldy replied with a _"Yes, Boss!"._ He blinked at the plethora of confusing facts that his mind was just now registering, and cursed his rush to get the job done for missing them.

One, there were no bodyguards in the room, which should have been the first thing to look for. The only other individual, aside from Delgado, was the one he was currently holding – someone whose hair was a blonde mass of fragrant waves, assaulting his nose with expensive perfume. And two…

"Wait… BOSS?!"

* * *

Michelle Delgado bit her lip to avoid making any noises. So this was it, then. She was going to die as collateral damage for her husband to get arrested – without the blasted man being even in the same room!

God, this was one more thing gone wrong to add to the list – all because she had once been young and impressionable and married the worst guy life could "gift" her with! Oh, she regretted it – had been doing so since her honeymoon with the scum – but there wasn't much she could do about it. There wasn't a cop on Earth brave enough to help her, or smart enough to believe her stories of abuse. _ **He**_ had made sure of that.

"What's your name, sweetheart?", the man holding her captive murmured mockingly in her ear. She felt him press her closer to his body, but there was no… twitching "down there", no motive other than what he openly showed – using her as a shield. She would have felt relief that he differed from the other men that frequented her married life, had it not been for the fact that the bulky man in front of her wouldn't bat an eyelash before shooting them both.

"Michelle", she replied quietly.

"Ah, the wife", he nodded against her head. Then he leaned back and said in a louder tone "Look here, buster, no funny business or your precious Michelle will not be the only one to drop dead. Our orders are 'alive or dead', see, so I won't lose a single moment of sleep over your death if it happens."

"Erminio", the voice from the phone drawled in a bored manner, stretching the "r" in the single word, "why is he still alive and talking?"

"You shut up", Jean ordered. "Hang up and never call back. Your buddy here needs to focus on me – otherwise his lovely wife Michelle will be shot right in front of his eyes."

The phone was silent for a heartbeat, then the voice rumbled, sounding quite amused "Michelle? Erminio's wife?". A booming laughter grated his ears, and alarmed him. Something was wrong…

The laughter ceased, and only then did he notice how the man he was looking at was smirking, and the woman trembled like a scared child. Finally, the mystery faceless guy said "I assume you are a detective, no? I like your guts, but, as always, you people at the police have no brains. So, as a reward for making me laugh, here's a little something to take with you to the grave: Erminio isn't Michelle's husband – **I am.** "

"Delgado", the detective growled, now getting the whole picture. The baldy was an impostor – once again, their target wasn't found. Said target barked an order in Italian and then hung up. Instantly, Erminio raised his gun, taking advantage of Jean's thoughtful state.

At that moment, two things happened one after the other in almost perfect sync. Michelle kicked her leg to her front, sending her loose heel towards the impostor. The show didn't hurt him, but it distracted him enough for Jean to shoot at him. His gun fell as he toppled backwards, blood blooming in a crimson flower upon his chest.

"Shit!", the detective tossed the woman aside, rushing to the fallen man. He kept her on sight to avoid any further surprises, but his main concern was Erminio. Damn, they needed him alive!

The rapidly bleeding man chortled a triumphant laugh "You… lose… You bastardos… will never get… Boss… Only his doubles… know…"

"Fuck!", Jean swore as Erminio's bloody cackle faded. His chest sopped moving, and the impostor finally shut up. "Great! Awesome! Now what do we do?!"

"Ummm… excuse me…", a timid voice made him look up. Michelle was fidgeting nervously "I know we didn't meet under the best conditions. I'm sorry. For what my husband has put you through."

He shrugged, trying not to lose all his dignity in front of the mafioso's wife "I don't suppose you know where said husband really is…?"

The woman paled. Her stance curled slightly in fear, and shivers visibly wracked her form. "You don't want that!", she cautioned almost at the verge of hysteria.

He narrowed his eyes. He'd seen his fair share of abused spouses to notice the hints when he came upon one. "You're scared", he finally said.

"N-No", she tried denying it, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

His protective instincts kicked in, and he found himself steadying her by the shoulders. "OK, lady, deep breaths. That's it… Good girl. Now, tell me. Has he ever hurt you?"

Her head fell to her front in shame, long, golden tendrils hiding her tearful eyes from his sight. Weakly, she gave a single nod.

"Physically or mentally?", he asked the next question, somehow dreading the answer.

"There's a difference…?"

He felt his ears popping, and his chest tightening inside. A single answer – more like a question, really – and he was floored. He quickly sobered up, though. This was Krista's field – he would have to let her take care of it. "Will he do it again? If he finds you…"

"No, please!", her head snapped up again, her fear now openly shown. "Please, I can't go back to him, please!"

Jean sighed. Damn, Marco and his softy ways were rubbing off on him.

He motioned for her to stay put, and talked to his earpiece. She didn't pay any attention to his hushed words – figured if he wanted to tell her, he would. Plus, being a good, obedient woman was now second nature, so vital to her survival. In any case, he had gotten rid of Erminio, and that was good enough for her – for the time being.

Finally, the detective winced from a loud voice cussing at him through the device, and approached her. "Look", he appeared nervous and almost apologetic, "I can't give you much, but I can promise this: you _**will**_ be protected. There's a safehouse, we… we'll take care of things, OK?"

She sniffled and gave a hesitant nod. Just then, a man with black hair and a freckled face entered the room, murmuring something to his earpiece and then taking it off. His gaze fell on her, and they both froze. He had the warmest set of brown eyes she had ever seen. And he was staring at her… in a way she had never been stared at. In a way she only prayed and hoped for in her wildest dreams. Like she was something precious and rare, something to be cherished. She found herself blushing at the thought.

"Well", Jean's voice made them both flinch and they turned away from each other, like they had been burned, choosing to look at him instead. "That did not go as I expected, or according to the plan, but at least nobody important died."

"Uh…", the freckled man gave a nervous glance at Erminio's body, waving his hand at him. "Jean?"

The detective did a double-take, as if just remembering the corpse lying a foot away from him, and blushed " _ **That**_ doesn't count!"

* * *

 ** _"Nice get-up, Captain. All... black and formal and shit. Whose funeral is it?"_**

 ** _"...Haven't decided yet."_**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm baaaack! For this chapter, I want to remind everyone that we never got a last for Ymir from Isayama. So I used the last name of the Ymir after whom our dear current-show Ymir was named. And, SPOILERS! But I need to say this: R.I.P. Ymir! You were one of my favorite females in SnK - the other being Sasha, obviously, and... Hanji(?) - I don't know, Isayama keeps evading a direct answer on that one's gender, so we're still guessing, I'm going with the female choice though.**

 **DISCLAIMER: ME NO OWNS SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN.**

* * *

Meeting with the rest of the force's higher-ups was never a pleasant duty for Levi. It was tedious, took way too much time from his busy schedule, bored him to death, and, more often than not, made him want to punch those jealous fuck-ups, who loathed his team simply for completing missions despite its outcast members. The only ones who never acted that way were Erwin, Shitty Glasses, and Mike.

But, he could take all that. He was Levi fucking Ackerman. What he _**couldn't**_ stand was the attire. Suit and a tie. A freaking tie of all things! Why on Earth did they need to dress like that?! They were law enforcers, not high-class tycoons, for fuck's sake!

As he neared his team's office quarters, his scowl deepened. Today's meeting had gone just as he expected. Shitty as fuck! His colleagues had drilled him about losing the only link they had to Delgado, and they had done so with the excitement barely hidden from their faces. Tearing him a new one was, after all, not an every-day occurrence and they loved the opening they had gotten. He let them yell at him for a good half-hour, deciding to let them enjoy it while it lasted, before he was done taking all their shit. Showing them _**just**_ how vast his swear-vocabulary could get, he had made them all shut up by reminding them that, unlike them, his team had at least tried. And, oh, yeah, they had Delgado's wife in their hands thanks to B-Unit!

"Suck on _**that**_ , bitches!", he had growled over his shoulder as he finished saying his piece, and exited the room. Like _**hell**_ he would let them have the last word!

* * *

"Nice get-up, Captain", Connie's voice greeted him as he stomped in the room. "All… black and formal and shit. Whose funeral is it?"

The baldy nearly swallowed his grin when said captain stopped in front of his desk and sized him up, like he was seriously picturing him in a casket. "He kept his thoughtful silence for a bit longer, before he reluctantly replied "… Haven't decided yet."

The spotter gulped nervously. Satisfied, Levi turned to look at the desks of the mission's… stars. "Where are Kirstein and Bott?"

"Taking a shower at Colleen's across the street", Sasha answered in her boyfriend's place, munching a sandwich as she kept typing her report.

"Lucky bastards", the Captain scoffed, knowing this wasn't the first time the sweet coffeeshop owner had allowed her childhood friends such luxuries. "And the wife?"

"Krista and Ymir are working on that", Reiner grumbled from his desk, where he was leaning on his beefy arms, sulking. Levi shook his head. They hadn't found Constance Chamberlayn, and the bear of a man had thrown a fit of all things after coming back empty-handed!

He sighed and got ready to deal with his current problem: get Delgado out of his hiding place. "Alright, brats, we know Fritz is top bitch when extracting information, so be alert. As soon as we get the locations of this fucker's most important operations, we'll start shutting them down. See how long he stays holed up after we fuck his shit up."

"Excellent plan, as always", a male voice congratulated from the door, and Levi felt an eyebrow itching to twitch. His team scrambled to stand up, which only confirmed his suspicions. He turned and shot the smiling Chief a look of poorly-hidden irritation.

"What is it **now** , Erwin?"

"Ah, don't mind me", the bastard smiled in a patronizing manner. "I just came to see what was your next course of action. I must agree with you – cutting off his finances is a fine way to smoke Delgado out."

"But…", Levi finally realized what his old teammate was trying to say. "Let me guess. You have something more in mind."

"Why, how nice of you to notice!", Erwin grinned in victory despite the short man's sarcastic tone. "Indeed I do!"

The smile left his face, and his blue eyes glinted dangerously. Levi cursed inwardly. He knew that look from his own detective days in the past. Someone was going to end up used and seriously hurt…

* * *

 **Yikes... We all know what happens when Erwin makes plans, don't we? Wonder what he's thinking to do now?**

 _PREVIEW:_

 _"What's in your hair?"_

 _"Trust me, you don't wanna know - wait, it's still there?!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**AND I'M BACK IN THE GAME! MY FINAL EXAMS ARE OVER, SO LET'S HOPE I MANAGED TO GET MY DEGREE ON MY FIRST TRY, GUYS! IN THE MEANTIME, SOME DOWNTIME WITH OUR CUTE AND HELPFUL BAKER SHALL MAKE US ALL RELAX - BECAUSE, REALLY, ERWIN IS ONE SCHEMING SON OF A GUN AND WE ALL KNOW IT!**

 **DISCLAIMER : I DON'T OWN SnK!**

* * *

"You know, these don't really count as cookies. I mean, look at the poor things! They're barely bite-sized!"

Marco shook his freshly-showered head at his partner's antics. They were currently in Colleen's shop, after having cleaned off most of what had clung on them during their trip through the sewers and having changed clothes. Colleen always had several spares for both of them, courtesy of their younger days as officers. They would often go more than 24 hours without sleep between cases, and they would clean up and change at her place, since it was right next to the Headquarters. None of them had ever taken back their dirty laundry, and the baker never reminded them to – in fact, she even made sure said clothes were always clean and ironed.

Why wasn't she married again?

 _Oh, yeah, now I remember_ , he thought dryly as his eyes caught the affectionate swat she gave at Jean's wandering hand, who kept stealing the very same chocolate chip cookies he was "pitying". The woman had been in love with his partner ever since she had outgrown her "cooties" phase, and she would settle for no one else. Which was a shame, considering her mad cooking skills, her pretty face, and her sweet, supportive attitude.

The shop was quiet save for the usual sounds of the coffee maker and her tools working endlessly, or with the occasional timer going off. Somewhere from upstairs, her radio praised the Isle of Inisfree in Orla Fallon's lilting tones. The air smelled of chocolate, coffee, and sugar.

Inhaling, he gave a nostalgic smile at his two best friends, who could have so much more, if only they let their inhibitions and stubbornness go. Not that Lyle was one to talk. Having tried his hand at marriage, and coming up dumped and with a child to raise on his own, was not exactly setting a prime example.

He could still remember Annette's face at times. Whenever he dreamed of those few happy months they had together – of what they could actually have had. But he hated those dreams the most, wished for nightmares instead. Wished he could forget altogether.

"Marcoooo", an adorable whine which should in no way belong to an adult female, brought him back to reality. He looked up into Colleen's electric blue eyes which were dancing with mock offense. "Tell Jean that plenty of women like their cookies to be cute and small when they drink their tea and – what's that in your hair?"

Her frown and the way her focus turned on his head had him sighing in disgust "Trust me, you don't wanna know – wait, it's still there?!"

He climbed the stairs like he was on fire, eager to get rid of whatever horror had remained in his black tresses even after all that rigorous scrubbing he had earlier subjected himself to. Her giggles followed him all the way up, and he was about to reprimand her for laughing at his misery, when the shop's door opened, followed with that signature jingle of the bell, and a smooth, quiet female voice asked "Pardon me, I was sent here by Chief Smith to fetch Detectives Kirstein and Bott."

"Oh, certainly", Colleen's voice chirped in her usual sweet way. "Ah, you must be a new addition to the team, then? My name's Colleen. You need coffee, tea, hot cocoa, or anything to snack on, I'm your girl!"

"Very pleased to meet you. I'm Michelle Delgado."

* * *

 ** _PREVIEW:_**

 _"And then we kill him!"_

 _"Not so fast, you dumb fuck. First, we need to reel him in - "_

 _"And then, WE KILL HIM! WITH A KNIFE!"_

 _"Stabbing? That's so out this season, man - I vote for something flashier and classier. All those in favor say 'aye'."_


End file.
